If you're friends with me on Facebook, you will have noticed that I'm planning on signing off on Facebook for awhile. I've found that all the cliches floating around about Facebook's effect on us as individuals and us as a society have started to ring very true for me (even though I have sworn I'm immune to it's ill effects). For me, there's a few big reasons why I'm taking a sabbatical from the Facebook world:

1. I spend WAY too much time logged on, and have the tendency to find myself elbow deep in a high school acquaintance’s photos of a recent Bahamas vacation. Does anyone have that much time on our hands? I could be working on some writing, learning a new monologue, catching up on my Netflix, or hell, even lying on my couch daydreaming about what I want to do over the weekend. This is a personal preference, but any one of those things feels like time better spent for me than scrolling through photos and statuses that make me feel like I haven't been completing life milestones I didn't even know I was supposed to be completing.

2. I find that most of the people I interact with on Facebook in a consistent way are the same people in my life that I am seeing in person, calling, Skyping, emailing, or snail mailing. Which makes me realize that we aren't losing a connection for good if I leave Facebook for awhile. Who says you can't email photos of a vacation to a friend or send a cat video to a fellow feline lover? I've been known to do both, and there's no loss if all 400 of your "Friends" can't see it too.  

3. I have fallen prey to the trap of thinking that just because an article of thought I posted didn't get as many likes as the person who posted about buying a new appliance for their kitchen, that somehow I have failed. This is ridiculous, I know. But the failure feels real. It feels shitty, and I don't want to feel that way anymore if I can help it. I want to continue to have the wonderful conversations with my dear friends where we take the time to listen and share our latest news, projects, fears, dreams, and thoughts. Sharing this way is so special. No "likes" involved.

Number 3 is a big one for me, and it's embarrassing that this kind of insecurity racks my soul from time to time on the Facebook world. They are all lovely things, but let's face it: I'm not posting photos of my baby, dog, cat, or picture perfect meals on a regular basis, so my posts tend not to be super popular among my Facebook friends. I don't say this to garner pity, just to be honest. I tend to post articles, blog entries, videos, info-graphics, and theatre news. These items are things that I tend to already blog about and besides, I can just email those links or thoughts to my real life pals anyway, so again, no big loss.

I do think that even though some might think it's being overdramatic, it's really dangerous to put too much stock in the "likes" that your Facebook posts garner. You can say it doesn't matter to you, and maybe it doesn't, but it does wear on me. Not in a "I have no friends!" kind of way, but in a way that makes me feel like I'm putting an idea or interest out there into the void and only feeling reassured that it's valuable and meaningful if someone "likes" it.  I think that this "like" phenomena has become a bigger metaphor for society. Why is it that we teach young kids that their ideas are worthy, no matter how unpopular they might be, and then as adults, we set ourselves up to judge our worth by the number of "likes" on our Facebook Wall? Or the number of "retweets" on Twitter? Or even someone's reaction at the water cooler at the office?  This is to say nothing of the the sense of comparison and competition that Facebook fosters amongst people. Who wants to feel that way all the time? It's kind of a crazy thing we've been swept into, and I want to make a move to take myself out of it for awhile just to gain some perspective. Ok, so I'm no Henry David Thoreau, but this is my own version of a social media Walden.

I won't say I'm leaving Facebook forever. As someone who does theatre, I know that social media has a place in the promoting of performing arts, and I'm not downplaying that. But I do think that social media lures us creative souls into "being interesting" instead of "being interested" in something we love. I want to get off the hamster wheel of needing to feel interesting 24 hours a day, and give myself permission to be deeply interested instead.

So! I will still be writing away on this blog, so feel free to keep visiting if you like, and feel free to send me your email if I don't already have it so we can keep this conversation going on a one to one basis. Facebook and I will say goodbye for now. It's an amicable parting. We wish each other well, we're just not meant to be together at the present time. 

In the spirit of funneling time from social media to making art (or pies, or gardens, or living room forts), check out this great blog post by Tara Mohr that I discovered about using "stolen time" to make art, it's really wonderful; http://www.taramohr.com/2014/08/stolen-time/  And after you read it, go steal some time for yourself! :) 

What are your thoughts on Facebook or other social media? I'd sincerely love to hear your experiences!

We lost Robin Williams yesterday. I will never forget his performances in Mrs. Doubtfire, Hook, or Good Will Hunting, or Dead Poet's Society, just to name a few of his favorites from my youth. They say when someone dies, you not only mourn their death, but you mourn a piece of yourself that's died. I think that's true. This time though, I'm also feeling like I've had to say goodbye to an illusion I had about success and what it means to be happy. 

I've long had a belief that I've carried close to my heart that success and recognition and honest-to-goodness sincere appreciate for one's artistic work is enough to give a human being a certain kind of lasting happiness. I'm not even talking about fame, I'm speaking more about the knowledge that you have touched someone in some way with something you've created--with a laugh, an insight, or a different perspective. I always believed that this kind of knowledge that you've touched lives could make up for the existence of personal problems.

I often operate under the illusion that if I could get my creative work out there to a wider audience, get a fulltime position in my field, have more consistent opportunities to share my work, then I'd be able to achieve a kind of lasting happiness in all areas of my life, not just my artistic life. I know that creative happiness wouldn't cause my personal struggles to disappear, but I have honestly always believed that these struggles would fade enough into the background of my life to leave me feeling a steady, safe sense of happiness that would be enough. If all the right pieces were in place in my creative life, I tell myself, I'd have a Yellow Brick Road of artistic and personal success and happiness winding gaily before me. This is an illusion.

In the past, I believed that while Robin Williams had personal demons and struggles (as we ALL do, artists or not), he had made enough beautiful and meaningful work in his life to save him from being consumed by those demons. I imagined that a lifelong creative career would act as a lifeboat of sorts, capable of buoying its passenger high enough above the water to keep him or her out of the clutches of that deep, cold sea of pain beneath. With the passing of Robin Williams and other artists I deeply admire, I have learned that no such artistic lifeboat exists. Art is not strong enough to save us from the deepest wells of personal despair. Contrary to popular belief, a tortured artist does not mean an invincible human being. A tortured anything eventually leads to loss on all fronts. Don't get me wrong, we should always strive for our highest creative goals and savor the success that follows. I'm simply saying we can't be lured into buying into the idea that creative success will banish the darkness in all areas of our life. We've seen too many artists go before their time to know that this belief is false.

In light of this, let's all make a collective agreement; as actors, writers, painters, creatives and makers and dreamers of any kind. Let's make a pact that we will not let ourselves believe that our personal struggles will vanish into thin air if we become successful and admired. Let's make a pact that we won't ignore our personal pain, believing that one more publication, audition, or achievement will make it go away. Let's make a pact that we will dismantle the myth that to be an artist, we have to live permanently in a deep, dark, terrifying place. Let's tear that myth down, because it's bullshit. Let's teach young people this lesson too, because they need to hear a voice of hope as they prepare to launch themselves as creatives and human beings. Let's stop putting despair on a pedestal as something that's required for genius and creativity. Let's stop insulting optimism and cheer and put an end to glamorizing the tortured artist as the only true artist. Yes, we are all tortured by something. And yes, we are all capable of making something wonderful out of our dark moments, but if we stay too long in those dark moments, we will get swallowed by them. And if we get swallowed, we won't be here to create any more.

I might sound dramatic, but I think this epidemic calls for a revolution. For all our sakes. Rest in peace, Robin.

This is a lovely interview with Robin Williams that I snagged from American Theatre Magazine's Facebook feed: http://content.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,2065243,00.html